Nursing and Mail
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [[ GiriPan Oneshots ]] "Yes, well." Kiku forced himself to be polite. "That's a wonderful tank you have, Heracles. Your…" Kiku wanted to cry. "Your fish look particularly vibrant."
1. Nursing and Mail

Things people don't know about ER nurses:

1) They don't get a lot of sleep.

Well, he didn't _look_ new. Heracles rubbed his eyes, swaying back and forth by the mailboxes. He sort of did, in that I-think-I've-met-you-but-I'm-not-sure way. But the man standing in front of the rows of mailboxes seemed pretty confident when he had called Heracles' name.

Well, his last name.

Gosh, when had he even gotten his mail last?

"Mr. Karpusi," the man repeated.

Heracles' eyes had trouble focusing. "Mm, yes? My mail?"

"No, _my_ mail. I think that mailman has been making a mistake and putting my mail in your box. I had figured I would go to you before I went to the administrators of the building. I have knocked on your door, but you have been out."

"Heracles."

The man's eyebrow ticked down. "Yes, Mr. _Heracles_."

"No, Heracles."

The key didn't want to slide into the lock. Heracles leaned his head against the row of mailboxes, attempting to open the stupid thing. It wasn't that much different than putting in an IV, and yet—

"As I was saying, I have knocked on your door a couple of times over the past week, only to find you 'busy' or not in." The man sounded like he was tapping his foot. Sounded like he _would_ be.

"Busy?"

The man cleared his throat. "Yes."

Heracles looked around and squinted. "Are you talking about Francis?"

"T… The man who—it does not matter."

"Wait… You're 107. I knew I've seen you." The key slid into the lock and a flood of letters cascaded out of the box. "You're in the one next to me. The room. That's how you know about Francis."

Mr. 107 bent down to pick up the mail. Now the man avoided Heracles' gaze, sorting through the mail quickly and efficiently. Heracles watched for a moment, and then realized he should probably be attending to the rest of the mail.

"What's your name?"

"Here's your mail, Mr. Heracles. I think I have found all of my missing mail." Mr. 107 bowed slightly. "Sorry for troubling you."

"Name?"

"Honda Kiku."

"Honda?"

"Kiku." He handed Heracles' mail back to him, turning and walking away.

The next morning, Heracles wasn't sure if the interaction has been a dream or not. The pile of mail by the door—still yet to be attended to—told him the answer. As Heracles left for work, he knocked one apartment 107 and called a farewell.

2) They have odd ways to deal with stress.

Heracles hated the screamers. Other nurses just found them annoying, but the screams haunted Heracles for hours. Only thing that made his hands shake. Yesterday, there was a kid who had fallen into a river and caught frostbite. He was screaming that he would rather have his toes cut off.

"Coffee?"

Heracles cracked open his eye, brushing the hair from his face. "You working?"

"Ah, yes, sorry I cannot hang around like I usually do. There's coffee in the pot, and I've cleaned up the vase from last night. I'll check on the frostbite boy, don't worry. Sleep well."

Francis was good. Heracles mumbled a goodbye as the man weaved his way through the various vases and antiques. Besides feeding the cats, Heracles had nothing to do. He slept, changed the sheets, had some breakfast, than slept some more.

When he woke up, it was around eleven. A text from Francis, who told him that the boy would recover only minus one toe. The cats, meowing for food. Breakfast. There was nothing better than Sundays.

Heracles' bliss was only interrupted when he saw the pile of unattended letters by the door. The mail—when was the last time he had picked up his mail?

"Where is your shirt, Mr. Karpusi?"

"Heracles." He looked over his shoulder to see Kiku standing behind him, eyebrow lowered in a dubious expression.

"Yes, Mr. Heracles. I believe some more of my mail has been misplaced once again."

Back to the mail, then. The key was definitely too big for the lock, and Heracles had to lean against the rows of mailboxes and try to jiggle the key into the slot. His mind began to wonder, when Kiku cleared his throat.

"How is… Francis?"

"Mm, sorry about last night. He comes over, sometimes. To help me talk about things." Damn, he had been using his room key instead of his mail key. Back to the lock. "Hope we didn't keep you up."

"I would ask that you perhaps… Talk a little softer. I understand the importance of…" Heracles glanced over his shoulder, watching as Kiku gazed into the distance. "Of discussing your feelings, but," his eyes snapped back to Heracles', "It can be distracting at twelve in the evening."

The key finally opened the door. "Sorry, shifts get off late."

Kiku brushed by Heracles, collecting his mail. Most of it was written in Japanese, but Kiku tucked it under his arm quickly. "It is perfectly fine. I understand that being a doctor can become, at times, quite busy. I simply ask for a little—perhaps—warning when you wish to talk with your…"

"He's not my boyfriend," Heracles interrupted, feeling his mouth twitch into a smile.

Kiku nodded, shifting through his mail fervently. "I see."

"Do you—"

"Have a good day, Mr. Heracles."

"I'm a nurse, not a doctor," Heracles called after him.

3) They (over)react to screaming.

"A _bug_?"

Kiku, credit where it was due, looked serious as he nodded from atop his kitchen counter. He had broken a chair, screamed wildly, broke something else somewhere within the house… Over a bug. A cockroach.

Heracles looked down at the cup. The cockroach tapped against the glass, scuttling around before falling still. Heracles looked at the door he had kicked in. Then at Kiku, who was still perched atop his counter.

Heracles should be sleeping. He had just gotten off a triple shift, his eyes wouldn't focus, and he had to get up early for another shift.

But he laughed. And laughed, and got cockroach motels, and had tea, and talked about Japan and nursing and why Kiku had towers of comic books everywhere, and Francis, and Kiku ended up getting some wine and it was good.

Heracles taught Kiku how to ice bruised shoulders.


	2. Seven Times

It was after the fourth time that Heracles became suspicious. Sure, parties are loud, and if you're at one, you're probably bumbling drunk. Accidents happen—Heracles himself had walked in on his fair share of drunken couples.

But the _same kid_ every time? Not possible.

The first few times, Heracles hardly even noticed. The door would open, there would be a second of silence, and then the kid would apologize loudly and shut the door. The girl or guy under Heracles would complain.

The seventh time, Heracles was sober enough to actually catch sight of this kid. Black jeans, a large hoodie, and a pair of Converse. Heracles had sat up, wanting to catch this guy's name, but he yelled an apology and disappeared back into the house. So much for that.

Still, Heracles had a better lead than before. There were only a few kids who regularly wore such dark clothes. As a matter of fact, Alfred F. Jones, the popular rich boy, had recently decided to switch to the apparel himself. It took Heracles all of five seconds to find him.

"Yo," Alfred greeted, leaning against the lockers, attempting to look mysterious.

"I guess."

"Alfred," a third voice cut in. "We're going to be late for Algebra, we—"

Lo' and behold, it was the same person who managed to find Heracles at every house party. The other boy froze, face neutral, and regarded Heracles. There was a moment of silence between the three boys. Alfred sighed, reaching up to scratch his eye and smudging his makeup.

"Kiku, Algebra stresses me out."

Heracles caught the desperate look Kiku sent to Alfred; Alfred didn't.

"Want to grab a smoke?"

Alfred's face did a series of contortions as he contemplated Heracles' question. Kiku's were closed. Heracles was banking on Alfred's attempts at being cool but it was Kiku who raised his chin.

"Sure."

It was a good thing Alfred was choking and spluttering on his cigarette—there would have been dead silence otherwise. Kiku smoked, looking bored; he didn't even react when Heracles moved to stand next to him.

"Go to parties often?" Heracles asked.

"Not more often than you," Kiku answered for both he and Alfred, hardly looking at Heracles. "Though I have heard you enjoy arranging threesomes at them."

Alfred gawked at Heracles, cheeks red and breath ragged. "Dude, that's fucking sick."

Kiku turned to Alfred, shooing him away; ah, he _was_ nervous. "Get to class, Alfred. Tell them there was an accident, and that is why you are late. Take notes for me, thank you." As soon as Alfred's backpack disappeared back inside the school, Kiku turned back to Heracles. "I assume you think I walked in on you purposely."

"Seven times," Heracles shrugged. "Are you a sophomore?"

"Does it matter?"

"You're very defensive. Why are you wearing those clothes?"

Heracles reached out to touch the hoodie. Kiku watched Heracles' hand warily, but didn't react when he tugged on the sleeve gently.

Finally, Kiku glanced at Heracles. "Would you be interested in meeting me at the Vargas' party this weekend?"

The Vargas family threw a lot of parties. Heracles heard once it one because the two brothers were raised by their distant grandfather, but he didn't much care. They had good alcohol and a lot of bedrooms, so Heracles never pried. Lovino and Feliciano were given polite nods when Heracles caught sight of them.

But now he was up in one of the bedrooms, watching Kiku.

It was quiet.

"Do you want me to get you another—"

Kiku crushed the beer can, shaking his head. "No, thank you. Alfred and I drank before we came here. I am… Drunk. Enough. Thank you."

Heracles nodded, finishing his own can. "Have you—"

"No." Kiku stood and placed the can on the side table. "But I figured this wouldn't be a problem for someone like—" Kiku hunched his shoulders, moving the can to the other side of the table. "Someone who engages in—" The can was placed on the ground, "Who…"

Heracles laughed, motioning for Kiku to stand in front of him. The other boy did, though not as close as Heracles would like. So, he reached forward and caught Kiku's oversized sweatshirt, pulling him closer.

"You," Heracles said, reaching his hands underneath Kiku's shirt, "Need to get out of your head."

Kiku chose not to comment, allowing Heracles roaming fingers for the time being. Who was this strange, strange boy? Who wore clothes because their annoying friend did? Who was too shy to say hello, so they'd rather walk in on someone at parties?

"You can take off my shirt."

Heracles did so.

Admittedly, it was slow going. Kiku took a ridiculously long time to move on to anything. It felt like Heracles had lived through the Ice Age before they were both down to their underwear. But they were, thank God. Heracles was moaning like a dog in heat, but he was so close—

"Underwear?" Heracles panted.

Kiku seized up under him. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. No."

That wasn't a very clear answer. Heracles kissed Kiku's neck, relaxing. "Is everything okay? We don't have to fuck, if you don't want to. We can just—"

"I _want_ to," Kiku cut it, his voice sharp. "I—sorry. I… You are not making this very easy, Heracles. You were supposed to…" A sigh, faintly annoyed, "To do the job."

Heracles hummed, continuing to kiss Kiku's neck. God, the other boy could go from tense to relaxed in a moment. He must have muscles of steel. "And what does your friend Alfred think of this? Or is he too busy pretending to be drunk?"

"Alfred has nothing to do with this," Kiku said, soft but meaningful. "It was for me to do. Alfred had nothing. He… Doesn't know. Keep going."

"You look better when you don't wear all of the black. And if you walk in on me a couple of more times, maybe we could arrange something else."


	3. Bottom of the Bag

**shy-germany ( on Tumblr) said:** Ok I have no idea at all if you're still taking these requests, but if you are, could you do "I wanted to keep it a secret! You were the one who was broadcasting it at the lunch table!" with Giripan?

 **I didn't end up using the exact words, but I think it's more implied so meh. :V**

* * *

Kiku was very attractive. Heracles loved watching him. Especially when he was angry—he liked the crease in between Kiku's eyebrows, the slight tug down at the edge of his lips, the way he would speak. Quick and sharp and very much there, in the conversation.

He was focused. Maybe that's what Heracles liked about Kiku. If Kiku had something to do, he wouldn't stop until it was done. Heracles would try, sure, but he would get distracted.

Kiku snapped his fingers, and Heracles blinked.

"Hmm?"

Kiku let out a frustrated sigh. "I was talking to you."

Heracles nodded. "Oh, I know. I was listening." The lockers dug into his back, and Heracles wondered if they could go for a walk. Kiku tended to like to stay inside, but Heracles wanted to get a chance to enjoy the weather while it was still good. "Can we go outside?"

"You weren't listening," Kiku said, and his eyebrows pulled down and he looked away. "You have to take these things seriously. I asked you to do something."

Heracles stood up, fumbled with his backpack. Kiku asked him to do a lot of things, and most of the time, Heracles didn't do them. He didn't mind though, usually, because half the time Heracles was half-asleep when Kiku asked.

But maybe he should have paid more attention. After all, sometimes it was important. Important to Kiku.

"Heracles—"

"I'm sorry," Heracles said. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," Kiku said. His English had gotten so much better. "But I wanted to keep it a secret. You know I did."

Heracles looked at Kiku's sweatshirt. He had worn suits, to begin with, but he had quickly realized most people didn't really care about school here. He dressed better out in public.

Heracles looked back at Kiku. "I didn't even say anything. Not…" Maybe he had. He had never been one for picking up on things. He fumbled with them. He dropped his backpack and looked at it. "I didn't mean to."

"You have to think before you speak." Kiku stepped forward and scooped the backpack off the ground.

Heracles watched Kiku fuss with the backpack. "Does it matter?" He looked away when Kiku's eyes flicked up. "Who cares?"

"I care." Kiku's words were short. Vowels clipped.

"Okay," Heracles mumbled.

There was a silence Heracles didn't know how to fill. Kiku rummaged around his backpack, and eventually he sat on the floor and pulled out the various papers Heracles had let accumulate at the bottom. Heracles stood over him.

"Bro!"

Heracles looked up, gave a vague wave at Alfred. The boy bounded over and grinned at him, leaned against the lockers and tried to take up as much space as possible. He had decided not to wear his glasses. According to Kiku, this was because contacts were better.

"I have a question," Alfred announced. "I have to ask the logistics of something, because fuckin' Braginski is starting shit again. Kiku would settle it. I dunno' if you were listening."

Kiku glanced up. "We were out here, Alfred."

Alfred shrugged. "How does a threeway work?"

Kiku's face didn't change, but Heracles watched the way his shoulders hunched, slightly. How he dumped the backpack's contents out. Heracles looked at Alfred.

"In what way?" Heracles sat down, knees touching Kiku's. He didn't move away, and Heracles felt a little better.

Alfred crossed his arms. "Alright, say I have these two chicks, right? They totally want to bang me. Like, they totally do. So, how would I go about that? Like, the logistics."

Kiku smoothed out Heracles' math homework. "Do we really have to talk about this? Don't you think it's—"

"Don't be a prude," Alfred cut in.

"It's geometry," Kiku argued. "If you paid attention, instead of sleeping and making excuses for homework, you might be able to figure it out."

"Who are the girls?" Heracles asked.

"That isn't important." Alfred leaned over Kiku's shoulder and looked at the homework. "What's important is how I would bang two chicks. Because—because there are only so many holes, you know? And so many dicks to fill them."

Kiku pursed his lips. "Alfred, go back to lunch."

Heracles watched Alfred retreat, and Kiku kept organizing Heracles' bag. He watched Kiku's hands, how they brushed against the edges of the paper. It made his heart hurt, so he focused on Kiku's downturned eyes.

"Do you want people to know?" he asked.

Heracles blinked. "Yes. I like you."

Kiku didn't look up, but his mouth was still in a straight line. God, so handsome, but something was bothering him, and Heracles had no idea how to make it better. The bell would ring soon, and he wanted to make it better.

"It's just," Kiku began, sharp, but stopped, reread Heracles' homework. "Threeways."

"Threeways. Do you want to have one?"

Kiku glanced up, pretended to be annoyed, but Heracles could see the way he had relaxed, slightly. "No. But it… bothers me."

"The word? Because Alfred has said—"

"No. That… you…" Kiku struggled, looking around the hallway. Heracles didn't pretend to know what he might say. "That…" He sighed, played with Heracles' math. "Sorry."

"I don't care." Heracles wanted to reach across the space between them, lay his head in Kiku's lap, lose himself in Kiku's thoughts and body and mind. "It doesn't bother me. Any of it. You."

Kiku opened his mouth, but the bell rang. He looked at Heracles for as long as he could, but then people spilled into the hallways and he replaced Heracles' notebooks and homework and stood and left him sitting in the hallway, people parting around him like water.

In the end, Kiku hadn't thrown away any of the paper cluttering Heracles' bag.


	4. The Failure of the Bosemani Rainbows

Kiku's first fish was a betta fish he got for his tenth birthday.

It died two weeks after he got it, and Kiku was determined to never let it happen again.

 **…**

Heracles' first fish tank was something he did not ask for.

He mentioned to his at-the-time girlfriend that he would love to get some fish.

Heracles had meant sushi.

The at-the-time girlfriend bought him a sixty-gallon tank, complete with filters, sand, lights, and a really killer piece of driftwood.

This cost about five-hundred dollars.

Heracles might have been banging a sugar momma'.

 **…**

The bosemani rainbows were a disgrace.

Kiku had gotten them too late, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't get their color to pop. Kiku had planned for the aquascape of his tank to be dark and for the bosemani to be the brightest thing.

But they were brown and sad and now the tank was also a disgrace.

Kiku stared, palm covering his mouth. He couldn't believe he had paid one hundred bucks for his bosemani to embarrass him like this.

The tank was a simple twenty-gallon, something he would mess with for competitions. The log was dark, looked almost burned. The only splashes of color there was supposed to be—other than the bosemani—were a couple of green plants on either side of the log.

But those were brown around the edges.

"Kiku, dude!"

This day was progressively getting worse.

"Hello, Alfred."

Alfred's camera swung around like a third eye. "Kiku is most well-read little competitions about fish! He got a neat second in the—what was it, the fish color one? Yeah, his fish were beautiful, good verity. I guess he'll be going up against his arch nemesis—"

This day was officially the worst.

"Karpusi is here?" Kiku asked sharply.

"Who?"

Kiku refrained—barely—from sighing. "Heracles Karpusi. Is he here?"

Alfred perked. "Oh, shit man, he's totally here! He—where are you going?"

Kiku walked neatly though the crowd. Granted, it wasn't _much_ of a crowd, because it was an aquascape and fish competition, but still. All he had to do was follow the stream of people and there Karpusi was.

Heracles was milling about, giving one-word answers about his tank.

It was a glorious tank.

Heracles' eyes passed over Kiku, then snapped back to him. "Kiku," he greeted, wandering over. "I was worried you weren't going to be here."

"Yes, well." Kiku forced himself to be polite. "That's a wonderful tank you have, Heracles. Your…" Kiku wanted to cry. "Your fish look particularly vibrant."

Heracles looked lazily over his shoulder. "Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so. How have you been?"

"Is there any food you use that creates such a color? Your emerald corys are the brightest I've ever seen." Kiku wanted to press his face against the glass of the tank. "And your honey gourami are beautiful. Fantastically yellow."

"No, I just sort of feed them whatever. Sometimes I'll throw in some… stuff I find on the ground. They like that. And worms."

Kiku slowly looked at him. "Stuff off the ground?"

Heracles nodded. "Green stuff. I find it in my backyard. You could come over and I could show you."

"That's extremely unsafe for the health of your fish," Kiku said, looking from Heracles to the tank.

How those fish weren't dead were beyond him. Sometimes, Kiku's angel fish would refuse to eat and starve to death. Plus, Kiku had tried every combination of food, including making his own, but nothing could compare.

"Oh, no, I don't think so." Heracles shrugged. "They like it. What are you doing during the judging?"

Losing.

Kiku's eyes were still glued on Heracles' tank. "I don't have anything planned."

"You seem tired."

"Yes, well, the tank set up and the drive over here last…" Kiku looked back at Heracles. "I am just intent on knowing the winner of the competition. My tank did not turn out as planned. My rainbow bosemani are disappointing."

Heracles nodded. "Let me see."

Kiku blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Heracles was already walking. "I'm going to see your fish tank."

"Ah!" Kiku hurried after him. "No, please, it would be disgraceful to see mine after creating—"

"Is this it?"

Kiku wanted to cry again. He could lie. He could say it _wasn't_ his tank, even though his first and last name was on a paper plaque on the same table.

"Yes, it is."

Heracles bent close, eyes half closed. "Hm. I can see what you were trying to do…"

Kiku's heart rose a little in his chest. "Oh?"

Heracles nodded slowly. "Yes… You wanted to show the judges you really like black."

Kiku deflated. "No. I was trying to create a black landscape, with the bosemani being the brightest things in the tank. Unfortunately… that is not what occurred. It is why I asked about your food blend."

"Oh. Well, I told you."

"'Green stuff' isn't a food blend."

Heracles nodded. "Want to get a coffee?"

Kiku neared his tank. "And I suppose I put my plants through too much—"

"You know what you need?" Heracles asked.

Heracles was not being very supportive of Kiku's fish tank woes. "I do not."

"Fish juju."

Kiku needed more sleep. "I'm sorry?"

Heracles pointed. "Fish juju. You're stressing too much about your fish, and your tanks are suffering because of it. You need to forget about your tanks, and go get a coffee or some brunch with me."

"I don't think that is a proper way to raise a fish tank."

Heracles tapped on the glass, nearly gave Kiku a heart attack. "No, trust me. I really don't try to make my tanks beautiful or whatever. I just throw stuff in, pick random fish, and it just works out. You stress too much."

Kiku was hallucinating. "You… throw stuff in?"

"Oh, yeah. Couldn't care less about my fish tanks."

"You are one of the most—you are very, very well-regarded by the aquascaping community. I admire you. You're saying—"

"The only reason I come to these things is because they give out Petco gift cards and I buy toys for my cats with them." Heracles shrugged. "And because I see you, sometimes."

Kiku needed to sit down. "So… your tanks are _accidents_?"

Heracles nodded. "You look tired. Want to grab a coffee with me?"

 **…**

Heracles had been trying for _months_ to get with Kiku.

These fish competitions were insanely boring. It was sort of fun seeing everybody else's fish tanks, but there were only so many ways to arrange tree branches and fish and sand.

But finally _—finally_ —there was hope.

 **…**

Kiku stared at Heracles as he took a sip of coffee. "You only started two years ago? You're a legend."

"Fish juju. It's because I don't care, I'm telling you."

* * *

 **Shy-germany said :** Ahhh Im sorry to bother you but if requests are open could you maybe write some giripan, maybe just maybe a continuation of that highschool au where emo!kiku and Herc hooked up at the party? I know, it's been like, years, but it's still one of my favorite fics ever

 **I did not do that prompt.**


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